I am like a petrol pump at night,
Surrounded by dusty highway lights.
This solace makes me cry,
For none but loners come by.
Rejected and forgotten,
Treated like a clandestine.
I wish I would burn,
Divine the dark sky like a firework,
And the people would applause,
The stars would drink all my remorse.
Free at last I will be,
With serenity and company.